


Now and Forever

by moonblossom



Series: Ink and Honour [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Historical AU, M/M, Regency, Secret Marriage, background homophobia, era-standard homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonblossom/pseuds/moonblossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock insists that it is merely a matter of fairness and equality, not sentiment. John is not so certain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now and Forever

John sat down at the small wooden desk in the room adjoining their bedrooms, and carefully unfolded the letter he had found in the post box.

_Dear John and Sherlock,_

_We would be honoured by your presence at an informal dinner tomorrow night._

_Fondly,_   
_The Lestrades_

He smiled to himself, picking up a quill and dipping it into an ink pot. He was about to scrawl a quick note of acceptance when Sherlock shuffled into the room.

"What is that, then?"

"The Lestrades have invited us to dine with them tomorrow night. I was about to reply."

Sherlock's face faltered slightly. He resettled his features into neutrality, but John was far too observant and familiar with his lover to have missed it.

"Would you prefer not to? I thought you quite liked them, all things considered."

Lowering himself onto the settee with a heavy sigh, Sherlock frowned and waved an irritable hand.

"It is not that I dislike them, precisely. They are far less insufferable than most of our acquaintances. Even the infant is surprisingly tolerable." His words, while not exactly a glowing endorsement, were nearly a compliment by Sherlock's standards.

"What, then?"

"Does it not bother you, John?"

John blinked, turning in his chair so he was close to Sherlock, their knees nearly brushing. He loosened his neck cloth and shrugged out of his coat, leaning forward slightly. He could tell Sherlock had something on his mind, and would rather be comfortable.

"Does what not bother me? Sherlock, unlike yourself I cannot read minds."

Frowning, Sherlock reclined on the settee, stretching his stockinged legs out and resting his feet on the edge of John's chair. Absently, John reached out and patted his ankle in a gesture of comfort.

"Their domestic bliss." Sherlock's lip curled as he said it, but there was an undercurrent of sadness in his voice. There was a pang in John's chest, and he gently lifted Sherlock's feet and stood up, crossing the small space and sitting down next to him on the settee. He reached out, cupping Sherlock's cheek in his hand and running his thumb over those beautiful frowning lips.

"You jealous fool."

Sherlock looked affronted for a moment, but before he had time to argue, John ploughed on.

"No. Not of either of them. Of what they have together. Of what society allows -- no, encourages -- of them, and of what we cannot have in the eyes of the law or the public."

Sighing heavily, Sherlock nodded. John wrapped his arms around his lover, pulling them close. Sherlock smelled of bergamot and hair oil and tobacco, comforting and familiar. He inhaled deeply as Sherlock rested his head on John's shoulder.

"It is ridiculous and unfair. I should be permitted to flaunt my handsome, brave lover before everyone."

John huffed out a quiet laugh. "I am not certain I deserve either of those adjectives, but I appreciate the sentiment." He ran a hand up and down Sherlock's back, soothing him, trying to coax him out of his sullen mood. "And if you prefer, I will come up with an excuse to avoid dinner. I am certain they will not be offended," he promised, already forming a different sort of dinner plan in the back of his mind.

***

Several days passed before John was able to put his plan into motion, as he had to wait for Sherlock to be away on an errand alone. The first person he needed to recruit was Mrs. Hudson, who was more than amenable. She offered to see to the food and the decorations. John did his best to assure her nothing was necessary aside from her presence and her blessing, but she was undaunted.

Next came the Lestrades. John took a short trip under the guise of heading to the baker's for Mrs. Hudson, a chore he knew Sherlock would have no interest in. Molly was beside herself, thrilled both for the plan and the request for inclusion. Gregory was hesitant and concerned for his work, but no doubt henpecked into agreeing by his wife. Molly eagerly began to detail plans to sew a new dress for baby Georgina, and John made a hasty exit. The baby was charming, but he had more important things to be getting on with.

Miss Morstan was simple enough, as several people had seen them together in public acceptable places and Sherlock openly encouraged the farce that they were courting. He paid her a visit early one afternoon, outlining his idea. She clapped enthusiastically, and promised to be there.

He sent hastily drafted letters to Lord Mycroft and his sister, not expecting a reply from either of them. He was surprised when he received prompt replies from both. Harriet was unable to make the journey but sent effusive blessings that led John to believe she truly understood the implications of what he was requesting. Mycroft shocked John even further by deigning to come into town for the evening.

And so it was that two weeks after Sherlock's initial upset that John found himself about to go through with a most unofficial and illegal wedding, unbeknownst to his future husband.

***

John rapped gently on the panel door that ostensibly separated their bedchambers.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock opened the door and greeted him warmly, pulling John into the room and pressing his lips to John's jaw line without preamble. He was still in a state of undress, his banyan coat hanging open over a rumpled nightshirt.

"John, it seems as though I have been seeing less and less of you lately." Sherlock's words skated across John's skin, warm and rough, sending a frisson of arousal through his body.

"You ridiculous man, I sleep in your bed every night." John bit his lip, trying to refrain from giving in and stripping down, throwing Sherlock onto the bed in question. "Stop this at once," he mumbled, pulling Sherlock's hands away from their steady path towards his arse. "I came up to ask you to accompany me to dinner."

Sherlock pulled away, frowning slightly.

"No, not to anyone's house. A club, perhaps. I would just like to go out and enjoy the city with you."

Sherlock's hands had found their way back to John's hips, digging in gently. He huffed, a small frown on his face. "I cannot manhandle you in public the way I would prefer to."

John rolled his eyes and dug his heels in. He needed to get Sherlock out of the house if this evening was to proceed as planned. As if sensing an argument, Sherlock relaxed and relented. It was rare that John demanded anything of him, and John was aware that he knew.

"Fine, just give me a few moments to get dressed."

Nodding, John sat on the bed, rolling his hand in a gesture to indicate Sherlock should proceed. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, but John caught the playful twinkle in them as he began to undress.

John leaned back, eyes sliding up and down Sherlock's body. "I may as well enjoy the spectacle while I can."

***

Dinner was a quiet affair. John ordered several courses, followed by a drink, in order to keep Sherlock out of the house for as long as possible. He picked at his food, strangely nervous, and spent more time staring at his ridiculously handsome dinner companion. Sherlock had chosen to wear an off-white shirt and neck-cloth with the rich purple jacket they both favoured so much. It was, perhaps, a bit fashion-forward for their dinner venue, but John found himself uncaring. It was almost as though Sherlock knew something else was coming. John believed it entirely possible, as Sherlock always knew more than everyone else, despite their best efforts.

As the sun set outside the window, John pushed himself away from the table. Sherlock stood smoothly, holding out his elbow, and unthinkingly, John reached for him. There was nothing outwardly improper about two friends walking in such close proximity, but John's heart jumped into his throat nonetheless. Sherlock smirked at him as they left the club, walking slowly down the street.

"Have we been out of the house for long enough?"

John widened his eyes, attempting to look both surprised and innocent. "I am afraid I have no idea what you mean, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled fondly. "Fine then, I shall keep up the charade for your benefit."

John could not help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He squeezed Sherlock's elbow gently, and continued on in comfortable silence.

When they got up to the front door of 221 Baker Street, he rapped twice with his knuckles before opening the door. As expected, the formal front parlour was filled with flowers and close friends who all knew the true nature of their relationship. Whatever Sherlock had been expecting, this was clearly not it, and his eyes widened as he stood in the doorway. Smirking, John guided him into the front room. Mrs. Hudson was glowing, her face beaming as she stood behind a chair. Gregory had his arm around Molly who was smiling nearly as widely, the baby asleep in her arms. Mary was sitting casually in one chair, wearing a fetching new dress of her own. Mycroft was leaning against the door into the kitchen, looking for all the world as if he were late for an appointment. Which, John thought, was more than likely the case.

Sherlock looked utterly perplexed as John turned to him, heart pounding furiously in his throat.

"Sherlock Holmes," John started. His mouth was dry with nerves. "We have been living in secrecy for some time now. Despite the danger, despite the strain, nothing has made me happier than you have. While we may never be able to be together in public, the people assembled in this room love us, and I trust them with our secrets. Will you do me the honour of becoming my husband within the confines of our home, with these people to bear witness?"

Sherlock stood stock-still, eyes blinking owlishly as he attempted to process John's request. John clenched his hands, nerves washing over him. What would happen if Sherlock refused?

"Sherlock? Please say something..." His voice cracked, and the sound must have jolted Sherlock back to awareness. He looked around the room, taking in all the people.

"If..." His brow furrowed, looking from John to the well-dressed guests. "If you invited the people who love us, why on earth is my brother here?" He spluttered, and everyone in the room laughed loudly, the tension of John's proposal broken.

Relief flooded through John's limbs before he realised that Sherlock had still not answered his question. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Sherlock turned to John and shushed him.

"Of course, John. Obviously. _Yes_." He took both of John's hands in his own, and led John to the open area in front of the fireplace. John, suddenly overwhelmed despite all his own planning, allowed himself to be led. They stood together, hand-in-hand, much as a traditional couple would find themselves at the front of the church. All that was missing was the minister. A nervous giggle bubbled up inside of John, and Sherlock caught his eye and winked.

"I thought we could just make our vows and be done with it. It is not as though I know any particularly lenient priests..."

Sherlock frowned and shook his head, setting his dark curls bobbing. John barely suppressed the urge to reach up and run his hand through them.

"Unacceptable, John. Someone needs to officiate." Sherlock looked strangely adamant, and John's heart sank slightly. Clearly, he had not planned far enough ahead.

"I suppose I can officiate if I must," Mycroft interjected with a haughty sigh. "Since everything about this proceeding is hideously unofficial, my name will not be on any paperwork..."

Sherlock scowled at his brother, before stepping close to their landlady and confidante. "Within these walls, there is no higher authority than Mrs. Hudson. She will stand over us," he pronounced solemnly, assuming she would agree.

Of course, she did. "Oh, Sherlock, darling. It would be an honour. I..." She looked around the room, slightly flustered. "Of course, I have no idea what to say."

Sherlock smiled at her and John's heart filled with love, watching the two of them. Aside from himself, Sherlock rarely smiled at anyone that way. He reached out and squeezed Sherlock's hand before turning to Mrs. Hudson.

"Please then, Mrs. Hudson. I am certain you can improvise."

Mycroft sat down with a huff on a spindly chair, and the rest of the guests followed suit, perching on whatever surfaces they could find. Baby Georgina whined sleepily but remained otherwise silent, a fact for which John was immeasurably grateful. He grinned at Molly before turning back toward Sherlock.

John's breath once again caught in his throat as his eyes roamed over Sherlock. The dim light from the fireplace gilded his hair and cheekbones, and John was struck with awe at the fact that the glorious creature standing there was willingly binding himself to John. Sherlock was beautiful, there was no doubt. He was frighteningly intelligent. He was, once you got past the prickly and sullen exterior, surprisingly affectionate. And of all the people in London, he had chosen John. Sherlock caught him staring, and for a moment his face was open and vulnerable and confused, as if he could not read John's train of thought. John merely smiled at him and squeezed his hands tightly.

Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat. "Alright then, shall we begin?" She coughed again and John blinked, turning to look at her. "You will be able to stare at him all evening, John dear. Just look at me for a moment."

There was a collective chuckle from the guests, and John felt himself flush.

"I have to say, this is not something I ever expected to find myself doing, and so I have no words prepared." She paused, lost in thought for a moment. John wondered if she were recalling the words spoken at her own wedding, and for a moment he felt badly for dredging up what could not have been good memories for her, but she shook her head and ploughed onward.

"I think it is clear that despite what the people outside believe, you two are very much in love, and both of your lives are richer for it. I refuse to accept that the Lord, if He is truly kind and loving, could look down on that."

Sherlock bit his lip at the mention of the Lord, but stayed silent. John grinned at him.

"Even though this may not be official, every time you look at one another, you will know that you have chosen each other, above anyone else. May you keep that knowledge in your minds for all eternity."

John nodded, smiling up at Sherlock. Sherlock's face was strangely blank, but John was unconcerned. He suspected Sherlock was simply trying to parse everything going on around him.

"And so, John Hamish Watson," she continued, ignoring John's slight cringe at the use of his full name. "With everyone in this room to witness, do you take Sherlock to be your law-- er, oh dear." She caught herself, and a quiet chuckle went around the room. "Your unlawful husband, then?"

John giggled slightly as he nodded, reaching up to stroke Sherlock's cheek.

"I do. I may be making a terrible mistake, but I do."

"And you, Willi--" Sherlock cut her off with a glare, before she could speak his full name.

"Fine then, Sherlock dear. Do you--" 

"Of course I do." He interrupted her again, and she merely pursed her lips together in mild irritation.

Unable to wait any longer, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulled him in for a kiss. He realised belatedly that it was the first time that several of the people in the room had seen them kiss. Likely it was the first time they had seen two men kissing in this nature, but nothing terrible happened. No chasm opened up in the floor to swallow them whole, no disaster befell the building, bringing it down in a heap around them. The world kept going forwards.

Finally, John pulled away from the kiss but kept their faces close together.

"Well, I suppose then, that I declare you married in the eyes of whoever happens to be present in this household."

Molly began clapping loudly, and Mary and Gregory followed suit. Mycroft deigned to stand up and crossed the room, shaking John's hand firmly as he approached. It was a better blessing than John could have hoped for.

"Oh, Mycroft, will you not stay for cake?" Mrs. Hudson inquired as he began heading to the door.

"I suppose one small piece would not be too much of a burden."

And so they all gathered around the large dining table to share in the fruitcake Mrs. Hudson had prepared. John poured small measures of port for everyone, and the conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, as though they had reached the end of any other social gathering. His heart felt warm, and he kept stealing glances at Sherlock.

John looked around the table. Mrs. Hudson was cradling baby Georgina in her arms while Molly and Gregory spoke quietly to each other, and Mycroft and Mary were deep in some rather serious-looking conversation John felt he was better off not knowing the details of. Everyone looked content and distracted. He leant over, brushing his lips across the shell of Sherlock's ear.

"Come with me, love."

Eagerly, Sherlock stood. John could not tell if he was eager to follow John, or simply to leave the table. They darted into the kitchen before anyone noticed, and John slammed Sherlock against the door, sliding his hands up into Sherlock's coat, arms wrapping tightly around him.

"I love you," John murmured, burying his face in Sherlock's shoulder.

"Mm, I should hope so. You did just marry me."

John nipped at Sherlock's earlobe before dragging his lips across Sherlock's cheek, seeking out his mouth and kissing him hungrily for a moment before pulling back until just their noses were brushing together.

"I hope you do not mind. It was a ridiculous flight of fancy, but I wanted nothing more than to prove to you that if we could get married, I would do so in a heartbeat."

Sherlock's hands found their way to John's lower back, pulling their bodies closer together.

"Mind? I am thrilled, John. You know I care little for what the law thinks of us, or whatever supposed omniscient deity there may be. It frustrates me that society disagrees with our love. But I would still rather bind myself to you in private a thousand times than live a lie."

John melted, his whole body resting against Sherlock's from shoulder to knee. As they stood there, professing their love for each other all over again, he felt the familiar stirrings of arousal like a live wire where their bodies touched.

"You are surprisingly poetic and sentimental, Sherlock Holmes. Now what do you say we eject all the guests from our house, send Mrs. Hudson to her sister's for the weekend, and consummate our marriage?"

A shudder ran through Sherlock's body, and John felt his own body respond in kind. "I do believe that might be the second-best idea you have had today."

**Author's Note:**

> So, as you might have noticed, I now have this series marked as Complete. I’ve written all the stories I had initially planned out for this universe. This is not to say I may not write more in it later, but for the time being I am going to focus on other stories. Thank you so much for coming along with me on this ride, I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
